


Steady Red Means Stop (Case-file # 5) Part 4 - FINAL

by Geelady



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geelady/pseuds/Geelady





	Steady Red Means Stop (Case-file # 5) Part 4 - FINAL

STEADY RED MEANS STOP (Case-file #5) Part 4  
Author: G. Waldo  
Rating: Case-fic’. Light angst. Light humour. Pairing: Jane/Cho No smut. Plus Jane/Lisbon friendship.  
Characters: Jane, Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, Karen Cross and Red John.  
Summary: Former attorney and now television reporter/host Karen Cross has a new show and imagine who her special interview-e is this week! Disclaimer: Not mine though I wish he was.

CBI

“We’ll get a comparison made. We’ll get a sample of Vogel’s DNA.” Lisbon explained as she drove, her foot almost to the floor, the car lights flashing that told people to get out of the way. She was making all sorts of plans to bring the old bastard to justice. “I mean who knows how many autopsies he contaminated? There could be dozens. We have Red John’s DNA on file now and it’ll be a simple matter to clear Red John – I can’t believe I’m saying those words in relation to him but – one son-of-a-bitch at a time. Vogel will pay, Jane.”

Lisbon looked over at him, worried about his stony silence. “I hope you believe that, Jane. He won’t get away with it, doesn’t matter if the Brown-Morris case is almost twenty years old...”

Jane nodded, wishing she would just be quiet and get them back to the studio, preferably in one piece. With every intelligent plan Lisbon laid out, he nodded again. He didn’t feel capable of speaking his mind without screaming and beating his fists against the windshield too. And there was Allison Schenn to think about. There was a life to save.

Jane found his voice long enough to say “You might want Van Pelt to look into the Brown-Morris murder. I’m betting Doctor Sick-Prick back there did some unspeakable things to his corpse and the investigating detective has had his suspicions for a very long time.”

Lisbon looked to her left. Jane was talking again and that was a relief, his voice once more almost Jane-normal. But while he was speaking cold, hard tears were running down from his eyes. He made no other sound. It was such an unsettling visual Lisbon could find no words of comfort to offer. “We will. Don’t worry, Jane. We’ll look into everything.”

He nodded, wiping away the useless tears angrily. They brought no solution or ease. “Charlotte never liked that dress.”

CBI

Karen was consulting with her assistant producer. Jerry Schenn was in no shape to help with the show having secluded himself in with the technicians, waiting desperately for a lead that would take the agents in charge to his daughter’s location.

Lisbon watched Jane standing off on his own with his hands in his pockets, pacing, and waiting for his cue to go back on the air. There were only moments left of the hour Red John had designated, and the studio chiefs were hastily re-arranging other broadcasts to accommodate the elusive killer’s time-slot.

Word had spread on the internet about that morning’s first broadcast and the serial killer who was in charge of a locally aired popular show, swelling the viewer numbers to eight figures. Cross-Hairs if nothing else was making history just as Karen predicted it would.

“Two minutes people.” Karen said her self control and sense of command back in full power. “Jane?” She called to him and Jane walked to the set where she was already seated.

She said to him quietly, “I lied about my interest in you.”

Jane did not care to hear her false confessions. He had felt her hands on him whenever the opportunity had presented itself and his nerve endings had understood the significance. Usually when your skin crawls, there is a reason. But he couldn’t damn her for trying to save face. “Doesn’t matter, does it?”

Karen adjusted her microphone. “No, it doesn’t.”

But Jane also knew it was his turn when Red John called back. “Don’t say anything unless he asks you a question.” Even a viper needs to be brought in out of the heat sometimes.

Karen didn’t say anything but Jane was satisfied she was not interested in having Red John peer into her soul again. It was bad for her image.

“We have a call.” The assistant producer told her over her ear mic’.

Karen did not introduce the show this time other than to say “We’re back and we believe Red John the serial killer is calling us now - hello, Red John, we’re here.”

“Thank you being on time.” Red John answered. “What did you learn Patrick? Did the disgusting old boy really do it?”

Jane nodded. “Yes. He admitted it to me under hypnosis.”

“Useful tool that hypnosis. I imagine you’d like to do some very nasty things to that old pedophile, wouldn’t you?”

What the hell. “I’d like to kill him, yes.”

“Masturbating over your dead daughter’s body...one insult on top of another that is.” Red John said. “And what about the Brown-Morris murder?”

Jane thought he understood. Even killers have their codes and even some, though fewer, their consciences. “Who-ever killed him was not also guilty of interfering with his corpse – that’s not proven yet...”

“No, but I’m sure it will be.”

Jane needed to know. “I am curious. What is your interest in that case?”

Red John spoke whimsically. “I thought you would figure that out, Patrick, but I suppose you’ve had a lot on your mind. Brown-Morris was my first.”

It made sense. “The killer was never caught.” Jane said. He knew of Red John’s first recognised cases, and Daryl Brown-Morris was not among them.

“It was my very first kill.” Red John explained. “It was before I – how do these law-enforcement types put it? – developed my art, before I began leaving my signature. And before you ask, I killed him because one day, one very bad day, he took my seat on the bus. You CBI folks call that a “stressor”.

Jane turned this new information over in his mind. Most murderers start with one kill – usually triggered by a sudden violent surge of emotion following a period of stress or a shorter time-frame of great stress. Red John had lost his seat on a bus.

“What else happened that day? I don’t think even you would kill someone because of a seat on a bus.”

“It’s dangerous to speculate on why I do things, Patrick – don’t forget. And you were wrong, by the way, on how you interpret my love for you. It really is love. A love of you, not the game although I must confess I do enjoy the chase and our much too infrequent encounters. I am not above admitting that I also harbour fantasies about you, some of which I intend to indulge in when the time is right. ”

“Not if I kill you first.”

“You’ll never kill me, Patrick. What would you do with your life without me in it? After all this time and years of the game you think settling in to a boring routine of family life is going to satisfy your intellect? Routine stifles your soul, that’s why you could never let go of the con’, not even for your dear wife or daughter. You sold them into my hands for your own selfish wants, Patrick. I know you know that and blame yourself for it, but you should not blame yourself – it is who you are. Never apologise for who you are.”

“But why did you have to kill them? You didn’t touch Panzer’s ex-wife or kids, but you killed mine – why?”

“Panzer was a pathetic loner, a no-account blogger with visions of god-hood. He was a serial murderer who killed for impure reasons. He was no loss to the world at all. But y-o-u-u-u...”

There was a pause and they could hear Red John’s ragged breathing through the microphone. Jane closed his eyes to Red John’s words of love and indulgence and the heavy breathing that told him...he did not want to think what. The killer’s obsession went deeper than any of them had thought.

 

“But you, Patrick, would have been a terrible loss. You, my dear Patrick Jane, are unique in this world. Your hunger for revenge is an honest, unsullied heart-fired lust that I can’t help but admire. You are more like me than you know. Yes, we are two of a kind, Patrick. I love you too much to kill you.”

Oh! Jane suddenly and silently understood something that had eluded him - a new and powerful insight into the killer. Why had he not seen it before? “So what you’re saying is...your life would not be stimulating enough without me.”

“I suppose I am. Interesting, isn’t it?”

Jane was forced to admit that, yes, it was. His years of searching for Red John and dreaming about revenge had been some of the most intellectually satisfying of his life, and his work within the CBI was gratifying - even fulfilling. His memories of home and hearth and loving family sometimes seemed like a pleasant dream he’d had in another life-time. No matter how deeply his heart still ached over their loss, he wondered where he would be if he had not lost them.

“You see I know, Patrick.” Red John mused as Jane contemplated his personal, soul-shifting revelations. “I know your marriage was on the rocks and a split was inevitable. Remember that you were a public figure then – a popular attraction if you will. The Amazing Jane. The Wonder of the Week. The newspaper articles were everywhere – the gossip was rife. But all that would have ended and people, as the fickle beings they are, would have moved on to the next and the newest act to titillate their senses, and then you would have become just another nobody as well. A nothing man in a hated job regretting your choices to the bitter end.

“It’s your grieving heart, Patrick, that idealises your family now, but back then...back then you knew that your wife, no matter how often she may have reassured you to the contrary, was terribly unhappy. It is one thing to love someone, it is quite another to spend a lifetime with them.”

Jane shook his head. Red John was only partly right. He was now not without hope in his life. He had retained at least that or, perhaps, had regained it within the CBI. Those with whom he daily worked held it out to him, the free and loving gift of themselves. His family was gone, and perhaps nothing may have been as wholly good as he remembered, but he knew she had loved him. The only time in his life he had ever experienced that with anyone.

Until now. Cho had actually said the word, and his friends at the CBI displayed it in their own ways each and every day. He was cared about. He was not alone anymore. His wife and daughter were dead but he still had a family. Lots of new things learned here today. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Like all murderers you are egotistical to a fault. I know what I have and I will do whatever it takes to protect it, no matter what you personally do to me. What I have is something you’ll never possess, if you ever did.”

“That sounded like a challenge, Patrick.”

He shrugged. “No, John, just the truth.” Jane sat forward, the fatigue that had been plaguing him gone from his body, and lifted from his mind. “Is that it? Are we done this little charade? Are you going to keep your word?”

“What do you think?”

Jane felt a sudden thrill rush through him, leaving his nerve endings on fire. Red John loved him, or in his mind was in love with him in some sick, twisted way. Which meant Jane wielded at least some power over the killer. That, too, was a soul-shifting revelation. “I think you will keep your word if I ask you to, honestly and sincerely, from my heart to yours. Look into my eyes, John. If you love me as you say you do, I know you can tell I’m not being facetious. I am asking you, humbly with my heart in my hand, to let Allison Schenn go, free and unharmed. Will you do that for me?”

There was a significant pause and just when Jane was sure Red John had disconnected his call, instead the killer answered. “Yes, Patrick, I will do that for you. Only for you, I will not harm Allison Schenn.”

CBI

“No leads. Allison said she never saw her captor, and he had a cab drop her off at her home just after the show wrapped. We think Red John had an accomplice helping him make his phone connections to the studio, and that man was using several pre-paid cell phones and a lap-top while moving around from one place to the next – which is why we could never pin down the server. Allison said she had no idea where she was being held as she was blindfolded the whole time.” Lisbon shrugged at the bitter irony of a serial killer keeping his promise. “Red John never hurt her. He kept his word.” Lisbon explained to Bertram.

Bertram nodded. “How’s Jane after all this? Do I need to call for a rubber van?”

Lisbon was sure Jane was going to be all right. He always was, after a fashion. “No. He’s seems okay. As far as I can see he handled the whole thing well.”

“You’re biased, Agent Lisbon. I want him back in psych counselling this week with no excuses.”

“Yes, sir.”

CBI

The following day Lisbon met him in the kitchen. Jane had the water on to boil, enjoying the simple few moments of waiting for the kettle to sing, anticipating the flowery bouquet of the bergamot tea, and the savoury melting of the golden honey in the tea-cup. He was at CBI, a place and a work he had grown to love. Life was good.

“Hey Jane.” Lisbon said.

“Morning Lisbon.” He said, stirring his drink.

“Some bad news, well, sort of, I mean –“

“Vogel?” Jane asked.

She stopped short. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“He insulted Red John by interfering with Charlotte’s body, by dirtying his “art”.” Jane did bunny ear motions in the air with his fingers.

“It looks like a Red John kill all-right. I’ll bet Vogel never even knew what hit him.” Lisbon handed the file to Jane.

Jane opened the folder and said. “Oh, I’ll wager he knew. He knew for sure.” It was delightful. The photos of Vogel’s body splayed open like a fillet were satisfying and a perfect start to his day.

Vogel was dead by Red John’s trusty knife. Jane had not had to lift a finger on that one. Life was very good. “He sure did.”

“Well, Darcy drew the case so the FBI is taking this one. We, on the other hand, have a double murder in south Sac’ to deal with.”

Jane tried not to appear excited. It was harder, though, to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. “O-o-o, a double murder? Double the bodies, double the fun.” He quipped and Lisbon just rolled her eyes.

“Settle down.” She said. “And get a move on.”

“Can I ride with Cho?”

Lisbon pursed her lips. “Fine, but no funny stuff.”

Jane smiled and found Cho gathering up his badge and gun, loading the clip and locking the safety in place. “Ready?” Jane asked.

Cho nodded. “You?”

“Yup.” Jane said, feeling powerful and in total control of his life, right down to his laced leather shoes. “I’m riding with you.”

“Okay.”

Jane looked around; everyone else was already on their way down to the vehicles. He planted a big kiss on Cho’s lips then let him go.

Cho looked at him sideways, not used to Jane being the aggressor when it came to the shared affections between them. “Are you okay?”

“Extra okay in fact,” He said. “Because I think Red John is going to leave us alone for a while.”

Cho looked more worried now. “How do you know?”

Jane shrugged, enjoying the tiny bit of power he now possessed over Red John. Red John was not a figure of terror or all powerful, he was not a god or the devil, he was, in the final calling, just a man and like all other men.

He was weak.

Jane kissed Cho again. “Call it a hunch.”

CBI END

Stay tuned for Case-file # 6: White and Red and Dead All Over. To save the team from a hostage situation at the CBI and solve the case of the hostage taker, Jane must resort to some old talents - and die! (NON-character death).


End file.
